“Obviously.”
“Or any other night when you’re in town.”
“Definitely,” she said and when they heard footsteps, she dropped her hand from his arm in a flash. “I’d better go.”
Travis rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks, glancing curiously from Becker to Megan. “Well, I’m glad to see you two are getting to know each other. It’ll make for a better shoot. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said and pointed to the restroom.
…
As the woman he absolutely would never touch again left the coffee shop on her way to the town square with Jamie, the little dog gamely leading the way, Travis hung back and pulled Becker aside. “Saw you and my sister chatting.”
“Yeah,” Becker said, clearing his throat. “We were just talking about the calendar.”
The lie gnawed at his chest, like a weed twisting in him.
“Just make sure things stay focused on the calendar when she starts tomorrow.”
Becker shot him a curious look, narrowing his eyes. The weed dug deeper. “Of course.”
“Good. Because I saw the way you two were looking at each other, Beck. She was checking you out, and you were checking her out. I trust you with my life, man, but you gotta stay away from her. You know you’re not in a place to give my sister the relationship she deserves.”
Becker stopped walking, held up his hands. “Whoa. Let’s not put the cart before the horse. I’m not looking for any sort of relationship.”
Relationships meant closeness, they meant intimacy, they meant the possibility of caring deeply about another person. But in an instant, you could be gone. Relationships meant the slow start of the end of things. That was the only way attachments ever went.
“I know,” Travis said emphatically. “And just keep it that way when it comes to her. She’s only in town for a few weeks and she just got out of a shitty deal with her ex. Just keep it all on the up and up.”
“Trav, nothing is going to happen. I assure you,” he said, and willed himself to mean it. He cloaked himself with his game face, while inside he reeled with worry over how his friend would react if he knew. Would Travis blacklist him? He didn’t know and didn’t want to know.
Travis clapped him on the back. “Good. That’s what I want to hear. Or else I’d have to…” He let his voice trail off as he cracked his knuckles, adopting a menacing glare. His voice was light, though, and Becker knew it was a joke.
But even so, there was definitely a kernel of truth to this ribbing. There were codes, there were lines, and he certainly didn’t need to cross them again.
Even though the crossing had been the best thing he’d had in ages, the only thing that had felt purely good.
Chapter Seven
“Pancakes! Who wants to bet I serve the most pancakes?”
Travis brandished a quarter, slipping it back and forth between his fingers. He was always betting on something or other. Usually the bets were much bigger and involved straights and flushes at executive card games he played all across wine country, in darkened rooms filled with cigar smoke and plenty of high rollers, made rich off vines and land. This morning, the bet was over which man from the shift would rack up the longest line and serve the most flapjacks at this morning’s fund-raiser at a nearby hospital.
Just your average day at the Hidden Oaks Fire Department. The work here was more focused on responding to medical emergencies, hosting blood drives, and conducting fire safety classes at local schools than it was about fighting fires. The sleepy little wine country town was mostly nonflammable, though the blaze a few weeks back had been an exception.
Becker hadn’t planned on joining the fire department when he’d moved here a year ago. He’d packed up his home in Chicago for Hidden Oaks because he needed a change. Hidden Oaks had been the perfect place for a new start. His financial adviser knew of an old pool hall in the middle of town that was prime real estate to be turned into a hip new bar. Becker signed the deal for the space that became the Panting Dog, and Hidden Oaks became his new home. For the first few months, he zeroed in solely on the bar.
But the lure of the firehouse proved too powerful to resist. It was a way of life. A calling, and so when the Hidden Oaks fire captain moved to Big Sur, Becker was offered the post. This town was much quieter than Chicago, which suited him just fine.
The trouble was he hadn’t eradicated the painful memories of the fire in Chicago just by moving away. They still clung to him like a film and showed no signs of abating. The what-ifs were relentless. He hated to admit it, but sometimes he wondered if maybe he should quit the firehouse. Maybe he’d never get his head screwed on straight. Every now and then, he flirted with the idea of being just Becker the bar owner. Maybe that’s why he liked being with Megan so much, because when he was simply the guy in the alley behind the Panting Dog, he wasn’t carrying around a shitstorm of guilt.
But he wasn’t a coward, and the thought of quitting ignited a fresh wave of shame. He didn’t want to be that guy. He wanted to be someone who could deal, who could manage, who could rise above.
Fortunately, today’s shift was all about pancakes and the calendar, and he damn well better be able to handle those two things.
“Is this even a contest?” Smith said as he strutted across the concrete floor, heeding the siren call of Travis’s challenge. “You know I’m winning hands down, and you’re going to be washing my truck for the next year.”